Home
by Akhaan
Summary: Ill-treated by society yet needed and vital. To many they're no better than the monsters they hunt, they are no more than tools. But what happens when they're seen as one more, when they're not discriminated, when they feel at home...


**Home**

"_"Indeed, there is nothing more repulsive than these monsters that defy nature and are known by the name of witcher, as they are the offspring of foul sorcery and witchcraft" _

_**Monstrum, or a Portrayal of Witchers**_  
_Anonymous_

The fading glittering of the stars reflected on the murky water in front of him, as a mantle of dark clouds consumed the sky above. He could hear only the soft whispers of nature and the fresh wind caressing his cheeks. With his eyes closed, and taking one deep long breath he kneels, idle amidst the swamp. His potions organized in front of him, his swords yearning for his grip. He proceeds to drink their content, one after another, a preparation ritual. He feels the burn within him, as it goes through his throat reaching its stomach. His senses heightened, his pulse quickening. His feline eyes now venture through the darkness as if it were midday, searching for its prey.

He can feel a weak vibration from his medallion, reacting to any threats that could be nearby. The weak movement became stronger by the minute as the griffin head grew ever restless around its owner's neck. From the vowels of the dark swamps, silhouettes emerged, one after another. "_Here we go_" he muttered and stood ready in battle stance, casting the Quen sign with his left hand.

Two strides forward he came face to face with one of the drowners, plunging his sword through it without hesitation, after all it was no more than putrid meat. Another came at his back but was quickly repeled by the protection sign, with a quick and sudden move he slashed him with his sword. A skillful 360 degree turn from his sword stayed the other three foes at bay. Taking care of the remaining three effortlessly with both an impressive display of swordsmanship and magic.

He stood still in that small piece of dry land among the swamp for a few seconds, still tracking its objective, aware of every movement or noise; nothing seemed to move it out of hiding. "_Foreseeable_" he thought sheathing his silver sword to his back, removing a flask of his cross-chest belt. Once spilled its content, an unmistakable stench of blood began roaming through the air. Now it was a matter of time.

He stood a couple of meters away, with his silver blade on his right hand. Suddenly the swamp became completely silent, as if an ambush was prepared for him. The seconds became minutes while he stood his ground, relaxing his muscles and preparing for the incoming assault. The sound of splashing water in front of him caught his eyes as a swift shadow jumped at him from his back. With a quick step sideways he released down his silver sword through the neck of his enemy, beheading it with one quick move.

The clouds start to make way to the moon and its cold gaze reflecting upon the tainted blade. The hexer kneels before its victim, examining it. "_Strange for you to be here. You should be in a more populated area"_ he said, while checking its fangs and blood colored eyes with his gloves "_so where's your lair?"_ he adds while checking its surroundings. "It cannot be that far" he muttered while looking around him.

He tracked his way some meters back into a cave. The effect of his potions were wearing out as he approached it, both his reflexes and strength was coming back to its usual self but his vision remained the same in the dark. He started walking in; barely fitting upright, as he rested his left hand on the natural stone ceiling while with his right hand holds his silver sword. Some meters inside he could feel the stench of putrefaction; he couldn't help to twitch its nose trying to avoid the smell. After a couple seconds he saw them. Bones with rotten meat upon them, unidentifiable but clearly human. He couldn't help to feel sorry for them and their fate, but there was nothing he could do but finish the job. He came back to the entrance and threw a grenade known as "grapeshot" for its ample explosion radius.

After recovering the severed head of the monster, he lingers but a moment on the place, watching, admiring the beauty and charm of such an obscure vision. The dragonflies were circling over the water, as a well-choreographed dance would be. A couple of seconds later he turned back and went to his horse.

Morning was already upon him. The sun reaches out for the horizon as the cold winter breeze sways above the trees. The sound of farmers plowing the harvest, the moan of cows and other farm animals gave him welcome into the small and poor settlement as children playing with wooden swords cross in front of his horse. The head of his newest hunt was peeking from inside one of his saddle bags, as he makes its way into the village. It was composed by no more than peasants and farmers, their families and homes. It had been that way for centuries. The house of the elder stood in the middle of the village as a trail of smoke came out of its chimney. The horse came to a halt as the rider dismounted. The dark hunter wore a black cloak upon his wares that could only reveal his face and the hilt of both his swords. He took out the head of the lesser-vampire and approached the door. He was being expected.

"_Stew?"_ An old voice inquired from the inside "_You must be starving, I know how tiresome those hunting trips can be_" he added while turning his back to its visitor and checking upon the pot "_Come in, come in_" he said while gesturing with his right hand for its guest to come in.

Now out of his cloak the witcher revealed his garments, his cloth shirt with a leather jacket on top of it. His medallion hanging from his neck, and both of his swords resting upon his back. He stood watching his contractor, as he revolved the pot with a wooden spoon.

"_The fiend is dead, I also found your missing villagers. The sooner you pay me, the sooner I'll leave_" He said while looking to the interior of the home, checking every detail. A wolf shaped medallion caught his eye but before upon further inspecting it, a bowl of brewing stew was right in his face "_There is no need for such kindness_" he said while keeping the food at bay with his hand. "_Ah! But there is my friend. You took care of our problem the least we can do is give you food and shelter until you decide to leave_" The witcher simply stared at him, not saying anything. He took the bowl and walked out of the hut. "_Don't forget your pay_" said the old man while pointing a brown bag.

Once outside he could see kids playing with his horse, caressing it. He was used to fearful or scorning eyes, but there he found nothing more than indifference, or even yet cordiality among the locals, something was different and he just couldn't explain why. The trial they undergo, their training, their eyes and their enhanced abilities made them no better than the monsters they hunt to many, but there he felt as one more. He sat under a tree and watched the villagers go about their usual business as he sipped carefully the contents of the bowl. It was delicious.

His gaze was wondering among the meadows and the trees as he felt a nabbing upon his left arm. It was a child. Her short stature stood against the sun, eventually revealing her green eyes matched by freckles upon her nose; hairs hold by a single braid. "_Hello sir_" she said as cordially as a child could possibly be, he didn't answered, he just looked at her, still holding his bowl with his hands. "_My friends and I were wondering_" she said with a tremor of shyness in her voice "_Why do you need two swords for. Do you lose them often_?" She inquired with an innocent look to his face. He smiled while leaving the bowl at his side proceeding to unsheathe both of his swords. He was puzzled, he was used to prying eyes, but in hers he found nothing more than honest curiosity. "_This one_" he began while picking up from his lap his silver sword "_is made of silver and is used to defeat monsters_" he said. "_Like the ones in the swamp?"_ she inquired looking impressed at the blade. "_Yes, like them, while the other…"_ he added as he reached for the steel blade. Despite popular belief that the steel sword was meant to kill humans, it also was for monsters. A witcher's work is to protect men, not endanger them. Besides witcher's do have feelings and a conscience, "_well, some of us at least_" he thought to his insides. He began to articulate the response as a callout cut his speech. It was her mother calling her home. "_For you master witcher_" the child said, as she stretched his hand with a flower upon her fingers. He took it and watched as she ran away home.

"_It's hard isn't it?_" An elderly voice inquired. "_What is?_" The hexer answered while sheathing his swords and resting his back upon the tree, closing his eyes. "_To care_" the voice answered. The witcher didn't react, he just sat there. He opened his eyes but there was no one left to answer to.

He looked into the sky as rain clouds approached over the horizon. Winter was coming and Kaer Morhen was hundreds of miles away. "_Maybe_" he thought as sudden emotions of comfort and care came into mind. His contemplation was interrupted by the girl running towards him. "_Master Witcher, my mum prepared plenty of food and she said that I could have friends over_" her eyes were brimming with excitement as she pulled his hand towards her house "_Do you want to eat with us?_" He couldn't help but smile and walk to its unexpected host's home.

"_Maybe_" he thought…


End file.
